by Rachel Lee
Exactly the right thing to say, but she didn’t believe him. She hesitated, wondering if she should just accept his words at face value or press the issue. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience with relationships of this kind. Well, no experience, to be precise. But she was also a grown woman and no fool. Nor had she ever been one, even as a child, to accept a pat on the head and vague reassurance.
Sighing, she sat up, clutching the coverlet to her breasts.
“Corey?”
“Just don’t lie to me, Austin. I may be only twenty-five, but I’ve had plenty of experience with the downside of life. All I want is truth, not soothing nothings.”
“Nothings? I wasn’t lying.”
“You weren’t exactly being truthful, either. Something is bothering you.”
“Amazing.”
“What is?”
“I’m not usually easy to read. In fact, I’ve worked very hard not to be.”
“So tell me.” She waited, her heart skipping a few beats. Maybe she was a terrible lover. How would she know? She had no experience by which to measure. Nerves began to turn her stomach over. “Austin?”
“It was wonderful. It was beautiful. You’re fantastic and I want to make love to you again. Unfortunately, I’m having a belated attack of guilt.”
“For what? I thought we just had a great time.”
“We did. But was it right? You gave me something precious, Corey, but maybe I shouldn’t have accepted it.”
She began to feel confused. “Why not? You gave me plenty of opportunity to say no.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you deserve someone with something to offer you. I have to go back to Washington eventually. How’s that going to make you feel? Like you’ve been used?”
Her jaw dropped in surprise as she understood the route his mind had taken. Guilt? For the pleasure they had just shared because he couldn’t make her promises of any kind? That gave her his measure more clearly than anything could have. Her nervousness eased in a wave of warmth toward him.
“You’re remarkable,” she said.
“Me? Not really.”
“Yes, really. I may have lived in a cave most of my life, but I gather the vast majority of men wouldn’t feel the least bit of guilt. So, relax. I have no regrets.”
His face seemed to say that he hoped she didn’t have any later, but then it smoothed over and he smiled. “I guess we’ll see. Are you hungry? Because much as I’d like to go right on holding you, my stomach is rumbling.”
He reached out before she could move, though, and drew her down on his chest, brushing her hair back with his hands, then pulling her close for a deep kiss. When he let her catch her breath again, his dark eyes sparkled. “Snack? Then more of you.”
* * *
One of the things Austin had noticed about this house was how heavily curtained the windows were. Upstairs they let in light, but down here they darkened the house completely. He hadn’t really thought about it until tonight, assuming they were insulation.
But now they struck him differently. Evidently she didn’t want anyone at any time to be able to look in her windows. In the time he’d been here, he’d only seen her open any of them once. At the back of his mind he’d assumed that because she was gone so much, she didn’t think about it.
Now it struck him as a sign, maybe because of those damn notes. Then another thought hit him.
Every night at a reasonable hour, he’d been turning on the lights upstairs. But not tonight. If someone was watching her, stalking her, that was more information than he wanted them to have.
While she pulled out some leftovers and started a fresh pot of coffee, he excused himself to dash upstairs. Once there, he followed his usual habit in the way he turned on the lights. Then he made a point of picking up a book and starting to flip through it, casting his shadow clearly on the thinner curtains. After a minute he wandered away as if going to settle in with a book.
He hadn’t any idea if anyone was watching, none whatsoever. But it seemed like a good idea not to take foolish chances. Little by little he’d been working himself back into form as an agent, but right now he decided he needed to speed up the recovery quite a bit.
Like mother, like daughter could mean almost anything. Unfortunately, to him it sounded like a potentially deadly threat, although he didn’t want to say so to Corey. He didn’t know for certain, so there was no point in scaring her more than she already was. But to him those words meant less that she was like her mother, than that she was going to die like her mother. He’d gotten the sense that Gage saw them the same way but hadn’t wanted to say so where Corey might overhear.
Making his way slowly back down the stairs, knowing full well that Corey’s mind was going to be in a much happier place than his, he tried to push such thoughts away. He didn’t want to ruin this night for her, not even a little bit, by bringing ugly reality into it. Not that ugly reality, anyway. She’d come back to it soon enough.
So he could give her one night, at least one, during which she could feel prized and special and not afraid of anything.
It might be a fool’s paradise, but everyone needed one from time to time.
* * *
Corey smiled to herself as she heard Austin coming down the stairs. She’d already heated a few things in the microwave, and more was on the way. A feast was beginning to appear on the table.
“I think,” Austin said as he entered the kitchen, “I need to learn to cook for less than a dozen.”
“But the leftovers are so scrumptious. Didn’t you cook for yourself in Mexico?”
“Rarely. I needed to become a familiar sight, so I ate at cantinas, and kiosks, places where I could be seen. Also places where I could hear gossip.”
“I never thought about all that must go into doing what you did. You really had to burrow in.”
“That’s a good word for it.”
She popped the last of the tamales out of the microwave and placed them on the table. “Is this an old recipe, too?”
“Yes. Five to eight thousand years old. Portable food. Used by workers and by armies.”
“It’s kind of remarkable,” she said, joining him at the table with steaming cups of coffee. “In use for so long.”
“I’m sure a lot of things we eat stretch back a long way. Roast beast, for example. I’ll bet cavemen were inventing barbecue sauces.”
She laughed. “You’re probably right.”
At least he was smiling at her, not looking haunted as he had for a few minutes earlier. She didn’t want him to feel guilty or in any way disturbed by their lovemaking. For her it had been a wondrous experience and she wanted it to stay that way, not become a cause for angst. And mostly, she wanted to try it again and again. That wasn’t very likely if he started berating himself for taking advantage of her.
But she honestly didn’t know how to address the issue. She hated her lack of experience in this arena for the first time. Just hated it. She didn’t know the right things to do or say.
Lovemaking seemed to have given her an appetite, and eating gave her an excuse not to talk. Which was good, she decided. With each passing minute she felt increasingly insecure, afraid she’d say or do the wrong thing.
How did she know this man even liked her? Or that he’d enjoyed making love to her? She’d heard men didn’t need much more than a willing body to get what they wanted. Maybe for him it had been utterly pedestrian. How would she know?
She’d just shared one of life’s most intimate experiences with Austin, and here she was feeling smaller and more afraid by the minute. The devils of insecurity began to sting her with their pitchforks, reminding her of all she didn’t know, all she had never done, which made her a poor judge of what had just happened.
For her it had been amazing. But what about him? Maybe he hoped
she’d just leave it at this and not bug him. Maybe he just wanted to move on.
And she feared that if she opened her mouth she’d put her foot in it.
A short while later he said, “Corey, don’t do this.”
She looked up from her miserable thoughts. “Do what?”
“You’re pulling inside yourself again. I can almost see you shrinking. What are you afraid of?”
Herself. Him. Her cheeks began to grow hot. The doing had been new enough. Talking about it seemed beyond her.
A gleam came to his eyes. “Ah,” he said, sounding as if he got it.
“Ah, what?”
“You’re asking yourself questions. Were you good enough? Was I pleased? Do I want to make love to you again?”
Now her cheeks felt so hot she wanted to put ice on them. A slow, warm smile grew on his face. “You were wonderful. I enjoyed every minute of it, and if you’ll have me, I’ll prove it again. You pleased me more than you can probably imagine.”
She couldn’t help it. She pressed her hands to her cheeks to try to cool them. He laughed kindly. “Relax, querida. Say and ask whatever you want. I’ve got a thick skin.”
“You don’t need one with me,” she managed to say. “It’s just...well, this is all so new to me I don’t even know how to talk about it.”
“I didn’t know there was a special way. Say whatever occurs to you. I am.”
A wave of relief washed through her, not because he had given her permission to say whatever she wanted, but because he had assured her that he was saying what was on his mind, too.
He leaned across the table and trailed his finger along her cheek. She dropped her hands.
“There’s only one first time, Corey. For anyone. It’s special. So go ahead and say anything about it you want.”
“I was just...” She really didn’t want to admit how insecure she had been growing, but he’d already figured out that part. “I keep replaying it in my head. I never want to forget an instant.”
His entire face softened. “Nobody’s ever said anything that sweet to me before. If I start pounding my chest like a gorilla, I hope you’ll excuse me.”
That surprised a giggle out of her. “Gorilla?”
“It’s always possible. You just made me feel really good. Very studly.”
She had to laugh again at his absurdity. God, she loved the way he could make her laugh. “You are studly.” And that was the truth, she thought. Something about him in particular. She knew of lots of attractive men around town, but none had ever awakened a smidgen of what Austin had awakened in her. Maybe it was his innate confidence. Maybe it was the sense he could take care of himself in any situation. Maybe it was the fact he could get into cooking and exchanging recipes and not feel the least uncomfortable. He could even joke about wearing a frilly apron.
It was as if he felt he had nothing left to prove. Maybe he didn’t. She wished she could feel that way.
The only shadow that crossed her mind was after they cleared away the food and he led her back to her bedroom.
“The lights are on upstairs,” she said.
“Leave them,” he murmured. “Just leave them on.”
But she didn’t miss the fact that later he went up to turn them off, then came back to her side.
Did he think they were being watched? Before the ice could begin to freeze her insides, though, he once again drew her into his arms.
“Now,” he said, “let me show you the ways I can love you.”
* * *
He not only showed her how he could love her, but also how to reciprocate. She couldn’t decide which was the more dizzying experience, what he did to her with his mouth and hands, or what he showed her to do with hers.
The latter, she finally decided. He appeared to have no inhibitions at all, but when he lay back and gave himself to her to do with as she pleased, she felt an incredible sense of delighted power.
It was like petting a lion, she thought dreamily as she ran first her hands and then her mouth over his angles and planes. He was so strong and big in every sense, and she loved feeling him quiver helplessly under her touch. He mostly allowed her to find her own way, so she paid close attention to his responses, seeking those things that made him groan.
Like his small brown nipples. They drew her, and when she finally dared to close her mouth over one, she discovered that they were as sensitive as her own. Not only did he groan, but he clutched her head gently and held her close.
“You can do that forever,” he muttered.
Joy zinged through her as she realized what she could give him. Emboldened, she continued her exploration, loving the way he writhed in pleasure but didn’t take command as he had earlier. Remembering the pleasures he had taught her with his lips and tongue, she reluctantly moved from his responsive nipples, down across his flat hard belly to the core of his manhood.
Stiff hairs tickled her nose, but she hardly noticed them. The aroma overpowered her, pleasing her with its rich muskiness. She nuzzled him and felt him buck. Then she reached for his staff, so hard and strong yet so incredibly silky and smooth. She ran her fingers lightly over it, loving the way it responded to each touch. Listening to him nearly pant as she carried him higher and higher. Her own desires were rising apace with his, making her insides tighten with hunger, pulsing with need.
Swept away on a tide of her own feelings, she then did something she had heard about but had never believed she would do.
She closed her mouth over him and mimicked the movements he had earlier made inside her.
It was like setting off a rocket. If he had wanted to delay, he couldn’t. Moments later she felt him jet, hot and salty, into her mouth.
Before she could react, he startled her by turning her over. He kissed her moist mouth, then slid down over her, tucking his head between her legs while he reached up with his fingers to tease her nipples.
She reached the pinnacle so fast under the strokes of his tongue that passion left her dizzy.
Then it left her feeling like a warm, happy puddle.
* * *
It might have been a courtesy call, the man across town told himself as he sat in front of his computer. The message had been meant to unnerve Corey, but it had been deliberately opaque. So maybe the sheriff had just showed up because he’d brought that guy to room with her. Just to check on things.
The visit had come late at night, the sheriff had come from home. Yeah, it had probably just been a friendly visit. Not a response to the note. He didn’t want Corey to guess until the last minute. He wanted her to wonder. He hoped she was thinking about what might have gotten her mother killed.
Relax, he ordered himself. Relax. Corey still hadn’t done anything different...well, except for that trip to the gym today. Maybe she was a little uneasy. He didn’t mind that. But then she’d gone and opened her store as if nothing had changed.
What he needed to focus on was that even though she had a man living in her house now, nothing had changed. He still couldn’t believe she had let the guy run home instead of offering him a ride.
Well, what could you expect from an unnatural man-hater? Like mother, like daughter indeed. She’d inherited her deviance, and maybe he shouldn’t blame her for that, but he could blame her for giving in to it. She didn’t have to indulge herself this way.
Look at him. He controlled everything in his life, allowing no overindulgence of any kind. Not in his relationships, not in his drinking, not in his eating. Corey showed no moderation at all. With her it was only women all the time. All the claptrap about her taking in roomers, he didn’t believe it. She took in her lovers. They stayed awhile, then moved on. But he didn’t know of a one of them that had married. As far as he could tell, the last woman she’d had live with her for two years hadn’t even dated.
So
it was as clear as the nose on his face.
The only thing he had to decide now was when. And which note he would send her as a final note, the one he really wanted to scare her. Nobody would be able to trace it, and if someone thought it was a real threat, he intended to make sure they couldn’t do anything about it.
Fact was, if the sheriff got involved, he could wait it out. The person who would pay for the waiting was Corey. She would know she wasn’t safe.
He wondered idly if she’d run to Denver like her mother. No, he decided. She would stay right here because she knew what had happened to her mother in Denver. She wouldn’t risk running.
The trap was tightening, and she was probably only beginning to suspect it.
Satisfied, he allowed himself another sip of beer and sat staring at the last sentence on the screen.
She deserved it. So do you.
That would do it.
* * *
When morning came it was hard to tell because of the heavy curtains. Only the quiet buzz of the alarm clock alerted them.
Corey would have been happy to stay in bed all day, but she had a sewing class this morning and had to open the store. Austin settled the issue, sweeping her out of bed in his arms and carrying her laughing into her small bathroom. There, standing in the tub, he lathered her until she had to grab his shoulders to keep from collapsing.
“Hold on to that thought,” he said, grinning. “There’s tonight.”
But tonight was a long way away. Corey sighed but smiled, liking that he’d given her something to look forward to. Could life get any better?
But bit by bit, reality crept in. His smile faded. Her happiness began to flee. In the kitchen, the memory of the notes returned, hitting her as hard as a punch. She’d managed to forget them for a little while, but now they zoomed to the forefront of her mind, filling her with unease. She had the inescapable sense that someone was hunting her. Following her. Watching her. Intending far worse than a prank. Seemingly innocent, the threat of those notes once again hit her.
“Corey? What’s wrong?
She felt a superstitious dread of even mentioning those notes, as if she could push them out of reality by denying them. Oh, she was good at denial. She’d been engaging in it for years. “What name did you go by in Mexico?”